


97 Greene St

by wildechilde17



Series: The business trilogy [10]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Natasha Romanov's Arrow Necklace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 02:57:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8780458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildechilde17/pseuds/wildechilde17
Summary: 5th Day of Clintasha Advent Calendar: Gifts





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_nita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_nita/gifts), [Discordchick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Discordchick/gifts).



Clint freely admits that he does not know how he ended up here.  He knows the broad strokes. 

There was time off. 

He never knows what to do with himself when he gets done sleeping, eating, shooting and then, just a giant, partnerless loose end.

And then there was his closet, which decided today of all of the days he has been just shoving everything inside and hoping the door shuts to vomit all over him. There was old footballs and coats and a hockey stick and boots that smell like dead wet dog and why does he have more than one old half inflated football?

And then there was the insulated jacket with the hood.  The bright red one that was no good for stalking anything but damn good for keeping warm.  The red insulated, waterproof jacket that Natasha had made him buy.  He likes purple, black, but she demanded he buy a jacket actually useful for backwoods hiking in god knows where and his hand had gone straight for the red one. 

And then there was the smell from the boots and the footballs and the old coats that had seeped into the jacket and showed no signs of seeping back out again even if he hangs it off the fire escape for a year. 

And then there was the C to lower Manhattan and getting fucking lost trying to find The North Face. There was a dog he patted on the way in there somewhere too.

So he’s got the broad strokes down.

The dog was cool.

He’s standing outside Tiffany’s his hands deep in his pockets wondering if he should just give it up, stop in at the CVS to get some duct tape and go back to bed. He’s standing outside Tiffany and co, the glass is reflecting back how little he looks like Audrey Hepburn and he sees something pointy. 

It’s shiny of course, everything in the god damn window is shiny, and it looks silver but might be platinum, white gold or stainless steel for all he knows.  But what he does know is that it’s a tiny perfectly formed arrow on a delicate chain.

They look him up and down when he goes in, gesturing at the display.  They don’t Pretty Woman him, apparently his money is as good as anyone's despite the purple converse and the old grey hooded sweatshirt.  

He takes the box out of the bag as soon as he leaves the store, pushing the bluey green and white thing deep into his pocket.  It feels heavy there. It feels like a cartridge or a butterfly knife not a fragile piece of precious metal.  

He doesn’t know how he got here.  Broad strokes, he’s got down. But buying arrow jewellery for a woman who says love is for children, who kicks his ass at hand to hand, who refuses to laugh at his best jokes but makes the worst puns you could…. He bought this thing for her, knowing he might never tell her he did. He bought this for her knowing he might never tell her he’s….

Ah.

Broad strokes then.

He is hers.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, you beautiful readers for still reading. I had to cancel christmas this year because I am flat broke (and did it with so much less aplomb than Alan Rickman in the afore mentioned Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves) so this is really making me feel like I am still giving someone presents. I love giving presents.


End file.
